


What's mine is yours

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: Five times Lovett borrowed something of Tommy's and one time he returned the favor





	What's mine is yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cestlabee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlabee/gifts).



> happy happy happy birthday to my favorite tommyjon lover

**1.**

“Hey I need a shirt,” Lovett says as he walks into Tommy’s room. Tommy looks up from his pile of boxes in confusion.

“Since when is your closet in here?” he asks as Lovett picks his way through the piles to his closet, rifling through the shirts and jackets like he belongs. He looks half-dressed; in khakis that _almost_ fit right and an undershirt, hair damp against his head. He’s barefoot, which is a weird detail to get stuck on, but Tommy can’t  draw his eyes away from the glimpses of his heels as he stands on tiptoe, peering onto the shelf. “There’s nothing in there, everything is still in boxes.”

“You’re more unpacked than I am,” Lovett says, undeterred.

“You’ve lived here for six months.” Tommy moved into the house exactly a week ago. Unfortunately, while he could bribe Favs and Cody and Ben with beer and pizza to move his boxes, they wouldn’t be coerced into helping unpack. Lovett had sat backwards on the couch the whole time and ‘directed’ imperiously.

“So…?” Lovett challenges. Tommy thinks he’s lying but he doesn’t want to call his bluff. He wants Lovett to _leave_ his room, not take him on a field trip to his own.

“Whatever. What do you need a shirt for?” Tommy sighs and gets up from the floor, standing behind Lovett to look over his shoulder.

“I have this date tonight and it’s going to be terrible I can already tell. We’re going to this absurdly preppy place because DC guys are parodies of themselves and I don’t have anything nice enough that’s not like, boring work clothes. Most of those are dirty.” Lovett’s tripping over his words a bit, like he’s come back to earth and realized that this is a little weird. He does that sometimes, gets ahead of himself on an idea before he thinks it through. Before he realizes that they aren’t _that_ good of friends and it’s a little weird to ask your coworker slash new roommate for clothes.

Tommy sighs and gently pushes Lovett to the side to dig through his hangers. “What about this?” He pulls out a green button down that’s a little too small for him anyways.

“That could work,” Lovett says resignedly, like he’s doing Tommy a favor instead of the other way around. He tries the shirt on casually and does up the buttons, tilting his head up to Tommy. “How do I look? Like a proper obnoxious frat bro?” He looks like nothing of the kind.

Tommy laughs. “Here,” he says, reaching for Lovett’s arm. “Let’s just cuff the sleeves a bit…” He doesn’t think he imagines the way Lovett jumps a bit when they touch. He’s definitely not imagining the way his heart skips a beat. It’s unexpectedly intimate, Lovett’s tiny narrow wrist caught between Tommy’s hands as he rolls the sleeve. He swallows and reaches for the other arm. Lovett just stands there and lets him.

“There,” Tommy says roughly as he takes a step back. “You look very preppy. Fit right in on Nantucket.”

“Lovett grins at him. “Cool.” Without another word, he turns and strolls out, chill as can be.

“You’re welcome!” Tommy calls after him.

 

 

**2.**

“Tommmyyyyy,” Lovett whines as soon as Tommy walks in the door. Tommy sighs, already exhausted.

“Don’t answer him Tommy it’s a trap. He just wants to run more cut jokes,” Mike warns from the couch they’re sitting on. Lovett is bouncing a little with nervous energy, while Mike’s projecting the most closed off posture imaginable.

“I am not. I have very important questions for him,” Lovett insists, indignant. “Tommyyy.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Dude, I have to shower and get dressed for tonight in the next fifteen minutes. You can ask me whatever you want, but you have to come upstairs with me, I can't stand here.”

Lovett huffs like it’s an imposition, but he follows Tommy anyway. “Did you know that a group of baboons is called a congress? And smarter too.”

“I swear to god Lovett,” Tommy mutters, but he can’t keep the corners of his mouth from turning up. He leaves Lovett rolling through more terrible jokes in the hall while he strips and turns on the water. “Okay!” he calls once he’s in the shower. He and Cody continue conversations like this all the time, but it always makes Lovett a little edgy. Over the curtain rod he can see the top of Lovett’s head as he leans against the sink.

“Do you think the third Kenya joke in the c section is too much?” Lovett asks pensively.

“For the millionth time, no,” Tommy says, tilting his head back to let the shampoo and the day’s stress wash down the drain. He’s done for the day and they get to hang out and get drunk at the Correspondents’ dinner tonight and then they have tomorrow off, this is a good day. “It’s good Lovett. You know it’s good.”

“What if it bombs?” That came out of nowhere. Tommy leans around the edge of the shower curtain to look at Lovett disbelievingly. “Ew gross, get your stupid face back into its boiling water.”

“It’s not going to bomb.” Tommy says, ignoring the crack at his shower temperature.

“But what if it does? This is my whole fucking contribution.”

“It won’t,” Tommy repeats firmly, ignoring the slow rush of pride that Lovett trusts him enough to voice this anxiety. “And it’s not. You’re a great writer.”

“Yeah…” Tommy turns the water off and reaches a hand out for his towel. Lovett’s so quiet he thinks he’s left the room until, towel around his waist, he slides the curtain aside. “Anyway! I need to borrow a tie from you. There was an incident,” Lovett says animatedly as he turns on his heel and leads the way to Tommy’s room.

“An incident?”

“It involved an orange, a paperclip, and Mike’s shoes.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Tommy says. He slides his drawer open and grabs a tie. “Here.” he chucks it at Lovett who fumbles for a second before grasping it. “Now get out.”

“Sure, sure,” Lovett laughs,. He pauses in the doorway. “Hey Tommy? Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

 

 

**3.**

Tommy leans against Lovett’s door for a minute before Lovett looks up and sees him there. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tommy says. “You about ready?” They’re going over to Favs’ for Lovett’s going away party and they’re already very late, naturally.

“Hmm?”

“Dude, we’re late, Cody and Mike are meeting us there, remember?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lovett stands up. “Shit… I was supposed to find a…”

“A…?” Tommy prompts when Lovett just looks around wildly. He’s dressed for the occasion, nice jeans and a plain, new looking t-shirt. They must rate.

“A belt. All my belts are packed cause I’m wearing sweats on the plane…”

Tommy laughs. “That’s an easy fix.” It only takes him a second to run to his room and grab a belt. Lovett stares at it when he passes it over.

“Thanks. These fucking jeans…” Lovett grumbles as he threads it. “Just think soon, soon I’m going to be able to make _new friends_ and I won’t have to fit in with a bunch of straight politics bros anymore.”

He’s deflecting and Tommy knows it but if not now… when? “I’m not, you know,” he says, as casually as he can manage.

“Not a politics bro?” Lovett laughs, finally heading towards the door. “Buddy have I got some news for you.”

_Take the out_. Tommy thinks. _Don’t do this now. He’s leaving, let him. You’ve never objected to the joke before. This night is fun._ Some other part of his brain is yelling. _He’s leaving because he hates how fake DC is. What if you were honest for once._ He’s not sure which voice is going to win until the words tumble out of his mouth.

“No. I’m not straight.”

Lovett looks blank for a second, then a put-on smile slides over his face. “Now you tell me,” he says laughing. “Come on, aren’t we late or something.”

Tommy keeps catching Lovett giving him sidelong glances at the party while he’s unsuccessfully trying not to stare. Out of all the ways he’d imagined coming out to Lovett would go, just… no reaction isn’t one of them. It’s the end of the night before they’re alone again.

“Look so what you said earlier,” Lovett says as he’s trying to fit his key in the door. He’s listing slightly to the side, drunk and tired. Tommy reaches over his shoulder and guides Lovett’s hand automatically until the door turns.

“About being bi?” Tommy prompts, when they’re inside. He’s impressed that his voice doesn’t break on the word, tongue loosened by alcohol and the need to get _some_ reaction.

“Yeah that,” Lovett says. He looks like Tommy is a tangled sentence he’s trying to return to order. “So was that, a joke, or…?”

“What kind of… Why the fuck would I joke about that?” Tommy says sharply. _Way to go_ , the negative voice in his head says. _Tommy Vietor, comes out to the guy he’s… whatever. And he thinks you’re a joke_.

“I don’t know,” Lovett says, sounding frustrated. They’re probably too drunk for this, Tommy reflects. He has the worst fucking timing. Lovett sighs and visibly straightens up. “Hey look,” he says, gentler but still awkward. “Thanks for um, telling me.” He taps Tommy’s shoulder lightly and then turns and disappears up the steps.

_You just surprised him, see? Honesty was the right call._ Tommy shakes his head to clear it and heads to his own room. He feels, in spite of his swirling thoughts, lighter.

 

 

**4.**

“I cannot fucking believe,” Lovett yells into the phone. Tommy motions for him to quiet down with one hand, while opening his apartment door with the other. Lovett follows him into his apartment, still hissing at the Delta rep on the other end of the line. At least they’re almost out of earshot of Tommy’s neighbors now. “The plane flew from LA to San Francisco. I got on the plane in LA. They checked my bag at the gate because baggage policies apparently mean nothing now. Sometime in the _hour and a half_ between me getting on the plane to me getting off the plane, my carry on bag, which I’m supposed to _carry onto the plane_ , slipped through dimensions?”

Tommy shakes his head and crosses the floor to the fridge to grab two beers. He opens them and hands one to Lovett, who takes it without a break in his rant. Tommy sits on one of the stools at the island and watches him gesture indignantly. This could take a while.

“Well I understand that you can’t physically fly it here yourself, Debra. I’m only here for three days, I don’t have time to do the baggage system’s job for it…” Lovett pauses for breath, rolling his eyes at Tommy dramatically. “Yeah, great. Thank you _so_ much for your help,” he says insincerely before hanging up. Tommy didn’t know that iPhones could click when hung up, but apparently they can.

“So that went well,” Tommy observes dryly. Lovett growls at him and turns to flop down on the couch, somehow managing to go from standing to flat on his back in one motion without spilling his beer.

“Fuck,” Lovett groans. “I have no _clothes_.”

“And yet the world spins madly on.” Tommy says, shoving Lovett’s feet aside to sit on the end of the couch. “It’s going to be fine, we can go buy some clothes tomorrow if you want. Everything in that suitcase came from Amazon anyway.”

“But I smell like plane _now_!” Lovett whines.

“You can shower and borrow something of mine for tonight?” Tommy offers easily, even though he knows that isn’t the real issue.

“Tommy,” Lovett says patiently. “I don’t know where you’re taking me for this, my first night in this godforsaken place where you’ve chosen to live far from your friends and relations, but it had better be cool and trendy. I cannot go to somewhere in cool and trendy San Francisco with your oversized, overgrown frat brother clothing on.”

Tommy eyes Lovett’s current garb of sweatpants and a worn graphic tee pointedly. “Is San Francisco cool and trendy or godforsaken? Make up your mind.”

“Things can be both Tommy!” Lovett’s settling in now, curling his knees towards him as he leans back into the couch. “You’re both.”

“That was incoherent,” Tommy informs him. “Also we’re meeting Dan and Howli for burritos because I _do_ have friends here thank you very much. They certainly aren’t going to care what you’re wearing.”

“Dan!” Lovett brightens. Then he sits forward, biting his lip mischievously. “What if there is a fine and eligible gentleman at this place of burritos Tommy? Are you trying to keep me all to yourself by means of dragging sleeves? Covering up my shapely ankles?” he says in a ridiculous accent that might be British?

Tommy feels himself flushing, unwillingly. So they’re doing _this_. Lovett blinks his eyes slowly. He might be trying to do come hither eyes but he just looks ridiculous. Tommy... Tommy loves him so much.

“That’s not how I’d keep you,” Tommy says before he can lose his nerve. He leans towards Lovett, hoping he looks suave and not like he’s looming. They’ve been dancing around this for years. When Lovett said _yes_ to visiting him before he could even get the whole question out, he promised himself he’d at least _see_.

“Oh?” Lovett says, still doing whatever dithering romantic act he thinks he’s landing. “And how _would_ you keep me, Mr. Vietor?”

Tommy tilts his head consideringly. Lovett’s put on smile fades, replaced by his real one, as they look at each other. _Jump_. “Like this, I suppose,” Tommy says, reaching for Lovett’s cheek as he closes the distance between them.

Lovett throws on the first shirt of Tommy’s he can find and his own sweatpants when Dan calls two hours later, wondering where the fuck they are. He lets the sleeves hang off his wrists all night, winking at Tommy every time he catches him looking.

 

 

**5.**

“Help! Tommy, Tommy help!” Lovett cries, skidding into the room they’re sharing in Emily’s parents’ house in Maine. Tommy looks up from his guitar, alarmed, but his heart rate settles immediately when he sees Lovett looking disheveled but unharmed.

“Slow down, where’s the fire?” Tommy gets to his feet and grabs Lovett by a shoulder.

“Andy spilled Diet Coke all over me and now my shirt is ruined. I can’t wear my wedding shirt for the rehearsal,” Lovett says rapidly.

“Okay calm down it’s okay, it’s okay,” Tommy says soothingly. The rehearsal dinner starts in ten minutes, they really should be down there already but he’d been practicing nervously and Lovett had apparently gotten up to trouble without him. “You have two other dress shirts with different lapels,” he reminds Lovett bracingly.

"Only two.  if something happens tomorrow- do _you_ want Emily's wrath on your hands?"

“Breathe,” Tommy cautions. “Let me see.” He turns to the closet where their dress clothes are hanging and pulls out his extra blue button down.

“My hero,” Lovett says, already pulling off his stained shirt. He tugs the fresh one on quickly and buttons it with hands that are only shaking a little bit.

Tommy looks him up and down. He looks good, if different than normal in his button down and boat shoes. “Here,” Tommy says, reaching for an arm. Lovett smiles at him indulgently as Tommy cuffs his sleeves. “Perfect,” he says, holding onto Lovett’s slender wrists and stroking his thumbs up and down the bones. He leans in to kiss Lovett’s forehead. “It’s going to be a great speech.”

“Most important speech of my life,” Lovett mutters.

“It’s going to be great,” Tommy repeats. Lovett nods, relaxing against him. “We’d better go down though, or you might not be alive to give it.” Lovett’s peal of laughter echoes through the whole hallway.

 

 

**+1**

There’s a knock on the door while Tommy is staring at the papers in his hands for the millionth time. Favs took his pen away twenty minutes ago, so now he’s just making and deleting revisions in his head.

“Are you decent?” Lovett calls through the doorway. Tommy laughs and carefully tucks the paper back into the folder, laying it down on the table beside him.

“Pretty much never, when you’re around,” Tommy calls. Lovett giggles happily and takes the answer for the welcome it was, pushing the door open.

He looks Tommy up and down with a grin on his face before bringing his fingers to his lips and miming a whistle. “Whoo-ee,” he says. Tommy rolls his eyes.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Tommy says, pushing up from the chair and reaching out for him. Lovett allows himself to be pulled easily into a gentle hug and giggles when Tommy’s hands move to his ass.

“Not yet,” he says in his fake seductive voice. “We’ve got some things to do before that order of business.”

Tommy makes a show of checking his watch, leaving the other hand where it is. “We’ve got fifteen minutes.”

“Probably three. Favs promised me five but I don’t have that much faith in his ability to hold off Em _and_ both of our mothers,” Lovett corrects. He’s right about that. Favs is a lot of things, but his lack of a poker face makes him a terrible partner in crime and Lovett is definitely supposed to be somewhere else according to Emily’s spreadsheet. “I just wanted to bring you these,” Lovett continues, holding out his hand.

Tommy readjusts so that his hand is loosely around Lovett’s back and holds his free hand out. Lovett drops something in it. It’s the stupid Star Trek cufflinks that Emily and Favs had bought him the first Christmas in LA that he’s worn with pride to every occasion requiring a collared shirt since. He hadn’t thought about it, but if he had, he’d have assumed they’d be on Lovett’s own shirt right now, to be squawked over by his mom before the photos.

“What are…?” Tommy starts to ask. Lovett interrupts with a quick, chaste kiss that still leaves him tingling all over.

“Something borrowed, something blue, right?” he says, when he pulls away, already moving towards the door. Tommy’s stomach flips.

“Wait, you need something,” Tommy says, as Lovett’s hand hits the doorknob. He grins over his shoulder and lifts his jacket so Tommy can see the belt he’s wearing. It’s the one Tommy lent him his last night in DC and never got back. “I don’t know if that counts as ‘borrowed’ anymore,” Tommy tells him through a laugh.

“What’s mine is yours and all that jazz right?” Lovett says. “See you at the altar.”

Tommy loves him so much. “See you at the altar.”

  



End file.
